


The Park

by waxbirds



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 13:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10832322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waxbirds/pseuds/waxbirds
Summary: “I hired a dog walking company and I’ve never met the person who comes to my apartment but they leave me really cute notes and they give my dog presents and I kind of love them because my dog does and ALSO one of the artists at this gallery opening is hella cute and I want them to paint me like one of their french girls AU” aka cheesy romcom fic ahead!





	The Park

Among all the reasons you wished you didn’t have to go to work, the fact you couldn’t spend all day with your dog was probably one of the biggest reasons you hated going to work most of the week. Every morning, you woke up to your dog licking your hand or your face, depending on how much she wanted you to wake up. You would get out of bed, and even before you showered, you would grab a sweatshirt and take her out for a short walk. It was still usually foggy when you got up, and the city was far calmer than any other time you were outside. It was the stillness of the early morning and the lights being diffused through the fog that made you not mind the early morning walks. Aside from you, your dog and the morning joggers, there was no one.

After taking your morning breather, and your dog relieved herself, you headed back upstairs and started to get ready for your day. Your routine, in general, rarely differed because if you had to be to work by seven forty-five, you had to be out of your apartment by six thirty. You didn’t have time to really deviate from getting in the shower, doing your hair, getting dressed and making breakfast. It was only when you were consuming the toast and eggs that you had every morning did you really have time to do stuff before you came home from work, tired and ready to turn off your brain. Since you got your dog, your absentminded dawdling during breakfast was spent opening the drawer and riffling through the notes that the dog walker was leaving you.

You had had to hire a dog walking company to walk your dog during when you were at work, which unfortunately for your poor little friend, was pretty much all day. As much as you’d prefer to spend all day with her, money was a necessity to take care of the both of you. It was a little more than you’d like to pay for something like that, but your dog seemed pretty happy with it. You paid a company, and they sent a walker to walk her three times between the times you weren’t home. Sometimes, this walker took her to the dog park as the company informed (just to make sure you were okay with it, which you were) and she loved that. This walker was also sweet enough to leave her with toys sometimes. You came home to find she’d have a new ball every couple of weeks, or maybe a new plush toy she could hide in her bed and cuddle up with when she slept. They would even leave new types of dog treats for you to feed her.

Along with all of the doting, this walker was also pretty sweet to you. Once, they had cleaned up all the dirty dishes in your sink and left a note that they had done it because they figured you’d be tired from work and your pup was their last walk of the day. You had left a note thanking them for being such a kind soul (as well as a twenty dollar tip) and it had snowballed from there. Now, you had a drawer full of notes left by the dog walker in an end table by the front door. Some of them were well wishes, some were comments on what good taste you had in one thing or another and some of them were stories about cute things your dogs did, but you had tons of them. They were cute notes that you couldn’t bear to throw away, so you kept them.

They never left their name on the notes, but you were almost positive it was a man leaving them. The handwriting seemed like a man. You couldn’t explain how but you had a feeling.

All too soon, however, it was time for you to go to work and you were patting your dog on the head one last time before leaving. It was a fairly long walk to the train station, and then a fairly lengthy train ride and another long walk before you reached your office, but you always managed to get there by seven forty-five. As soon as you entered the building, you were making a mental list of all the things you had to get done today. There were a couple things that you had to finish from yesterday, which meant you were going to skip the morning coffee with your best work friend, Lindsay to make sure it was done by eight thirty when your boss came in. However, you weren’t at your desk for more than maybe six minutes before she showed up, two coffee cups in hand. She placed one on your desk and pulled up a vacant chair, obviously intent on keeping you company while you worked.

“So, what are you doing tonight?” she asked, bringing the cup to her lips and looking over the rim at you expectantly. You rummaged through a small stack of papers, looking for the right one to be next in the pile, wracking your brain for plans.

“Uh, sitting at home with my dog and eating Chinese?” you offered, looking over at her.

“Wrong,” she informed, “You are going to the opening of an art gallery where a friend slash neighbor of mine is showcasing some of his work.”

“Fine,” you sighed, “But I’m only going to see his work and to tell him you’re only friends with him because he’s pretty.” You offered her a teasing smile, and she smiled back, reaching into the pocket of her sweater and dropping what looked like a shiny postcard down on your desk.

“Oh please, like he doesn’t already know that,” Lindsay said, waving her free hand at you as she stood up before shoving the chair she had been sitting back where it went. “I’ll meet you at the gallery at like six? Dress nice. Jon stressed that point with me so I will with you.”

A minute or two later, Lindsay had said her goodbyes and was gone, and you were getting ready for your day. It was, for the most part uneventful, aside from your boss losing their head over the papers you were trying to hand them when they got to work. You kept your head down the rest of the day as everyone else in the office was curious and ready to gossip about what you did to deserve the freak out. You would have left them on your boss’ desk after reorganizing and labeling what needed to be, but you were too busy trying to figure out what you were going to wear tonight. You spent the day wracking your brain while you worked for things that were designated as nice in your wardrobe. Maybe you could dig out a dress that you had gotten for a date? Or maybe just a really nice top and a pair of work pants? A skirt?

You continued to plan out how to make yourself look nice (fuck, what does that even mean?) with your hair and your makeup and what shoes to wear. It was a fairly absentminded walk home, and you had to thank god for the fact your feet could autopilot back to your apartment. Before you knew it, and about the time you finally decided what you were going to wear, you were unlocking your front door and your dog was bounding up to the door to jump at your legs. You beamed down at her, shutting the door and bending down to pet her. As the dog walker usually stopped by not long after you went home, you could just throw yourself back into the shower after adequately doting on your dog. On your way over to the bathroom, you caught sight of a note sitting on the end table by the front door.

_Your dog is the sweetest thing! She helped keep the other dogs in line. You’ve taught her well._

You smiled down at your puppy who was carrying a brand new purple Bobo toy in her mouth, wagging her tail happily. Obviously, someone was getting rewarded for shepherding other dogs with the dog walker. You shook your head, patting her on the head before heading for the shower.

Within an hour, you were showered, dressed and your makeup and hair was done. You took your dog out quickly, playing with the black dress you were wearing, pulling at the lace sleeves that went no further than your elbows and that matched the entire top half and was intercut with triangles that introduced the bottom silky part of the rest of the dress. As soon as you got back upstairs, you switched out your work shoes that you wore outside and switched into a pair of plain black heels. You made sure your dog would okay for a while and then headed to the art gallery.

By the time you got there, the gallery had already opened and there were quite a few people milling around inside. You looked around for Lindsay, but when you couldn’t find her, you grabbed a drink and started milling around as well, stopping to look at the art. You were enjoying looking at the art of one particular artist, mostly drawings and had some photography mixed in. As you were admiring an excellent drawing of an adorable dog, someone tapped your shoulder.

“There you are!” Lindsay said as you faced her, “How long have you been here?”

“Not long,” you told her, taking a sip of your drink. She tapped the person standing next to her on the arm before motioning to you.

“This is my friend [Y/N] from work,” she introduced, “And this,” she motioned to the man standing next to her, “is my friend Jon from my building.”

Jon, as it turned out, was incredibly cute. The take-your-breath-away kind of cute with his blue eyes and hair that you would not mind twisting around your fingers. He smiled at you, tugging at his suit jacket that he wore over a gray shirt and then held his hand out to you.

“Hi,” he greeted, “Lindsay’s told me about you. She keeps inviting me out when the people from your office go for drinks but I haven’t gotten there. So, it’s nice to finally meet you!”

“You too,” you said, shaking his hand. “Congrats on the gallery thing,” you added as that seemed like the right thing to say. He smiled brightly at you, giving your hand a squeeze before letting it go. He ran that hand through his hair, looking at the set of drawings you were in front of.

“Thanks, I was really…nervous about all this, but it seems to be going okay, right?” he asked, looking over at Lindsay. She gave him an incredulous, are you dumb kind of look.

“Jon, you sold half of your wall. It’s going well,” she told him, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Really? That’s so awesome!” you exclaimed, feeling weird for being excited for someone who you didn’t know, but Lindsay said he had been worried and clearly he had no reason to.

“Yeah, it is!” Lindsay agreed, finishing off the rest of her drink. “I’m going to grab another drink. Jon, why don’t you try to sell [Y/N] something you haven’t already?” She gave him a nudge and then headed off. Jon chuckled, looking from you to the wall in front of the both of you.

“Well, this is my wall,” he said, “And I promise I won’t try to sell you anything.” The two of you chuckled together, and you took a sip of your drink, looking back to the drawing of the dog you had been looking at earlier.

“This is so great,” you said, “And the dog is absolutely adorable.” You glanced over at Jon, who beamed, looking at you and then the drawing.

“Thanks, that’s my dog,” he told you, “Bella. I end up drawing a lot of her.”

“That’s so great,” you said, still smiling. “Dogs are the best! I have one of my own and I wish I could just spend all day with her.”

Jon smiled back at you and you began to trade stories about your dogs, and you weaved in art related questions. As he seemed to draw Bella so much, it wasn’t too far out of left field to ask him about his style and process and such. You didn’t know much about art, but multiple basic art classes throughout your education and having friends who were into art helped a little. He seemed excited to answer the questions and excited about his dog.

All too soon, your conversation was being interrupted by the gallery owner who wanted to introduce him to someone interested in buying some of his artwork. Jon gave you an apologetic look, and you just offered him a smile and quietly stepped away. You went off to find Lindsay, who you found talking to a photographer. You milled around nearby, not wanting to intrude on the conversation they were having and instead looked at the photographer’s work. When Lindsay was done, she came over to you, passing you a full glass.

“So,” she started, looking at the same work you were, a photograph of forks of lightening hitting a tree, “Jon’s pretty great, huh?”  You took a sip of your drink, nodding slowly.

“And _so_ cute,” you added.

“I told you so,” she said in a sing song voice. “You two seemed to be having such an interesting conversation.”

“About our dogs,” you explained, taking another sip and looking over at her. “And some art stuff, I guess.” Lindsay smiled, looking back at you.

“Jon’s two favorite things,” she stated, “You have found the way to his heart in less than two hours. I’m impressed, [Y/N].” You giggled awkwardly, taking another, longer sip of your drink and then shaking your head.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said airily, walking towards another artist’s wall and stopping to look at an oil painting of a couple in bed together. Lindsay followed you, clicking her tongue as she caught sight of the painting.

“Oh please. I saw the eyes you two were making at each other,” she told you matter-of-factly. “You want to try out this position with him,” she added, pointing at the painting in front of the two of you. You gave her a look, shaking your head.

“I don’t know him well enough for that,” you informed. You paused, debating whether or not to mention it but eventually the words left your mouth: “I would not, however, mind him drawing me like one of his French girls.” The two of you giggled but before you could calm yourselves down, maybe a beat after you said it, Jon was there. You blushed slightly, hoping he hadn’t heard your comment.

“So, the gallery is almost ready to close,” he informed. “Are we still up for drinks after this?”

“Yeah!” Lindsay told him. “As long as [Y/N] is invited.” Jon looked him her to you, his face lighting up as he smiled.

“Of course you are,” he told you, “As long as you’d like to join us.” He ran his hand through his hair again, and your eyes left his face to watch it fall because wow was that nice hair.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you said, smiling back at him, eyes flicking back to his face and nodding.

“Great,” he said, the hand from his hair falling to rest lightly on your upper back and put his other hand on Lindsay’s upper back. “I’ll be back in a few, there are just a few things I’ve got to do and then we can go.” He looked from you to Lindsay, raising his eyebrows before leaving, his hand leaving a tingling feeling on your skin as he did.

The two of you hung around Jon’s wall as he finished what he had to, commenting on there was a woman throwing herself at the photographer Lindsay had been speaking to earlier and he did not seem interested at all. You felt a little embarrassed for her, but before you could go over and save her from embarrassing herself any further, Jon was ready to go.

The three of you didn’t go far though, just to the bar down the road from the art gallery. Not surprisingly, there were a lot of faces you recognized from the gallery spread throughout the small bar room. It was far more crowded, or maybe it seemed that way because the place was so tiny. The three of you made it to the bar, ordered your drinks and managed to find an empty table. The three of you spilled into the curved booth, and you ended up nestled between Jon and Lindsay.

“Do you feel better now?” Lindsay asked, leaning over the table to see Jon from behind you. “Now that it’s all over and you’ve sold virtually everything?” You and Lindsay laughed, and Jon smiled sheepishly.

“I didn’t sell virtually everything!” Jon informed, “Just a couple big pieces that took up a lot of space.” He brought the glass to his lips, shaking his head as he did and you looked over at Lindsay, who shrugged and took a sip of her own drink.

“All I’m saying is you were a lot better off than you’d thought you’d be,” she pointed out. “[Y/N], let me tell you, Jon spent a month freaking out about that opening.

“It wasn’t a month,” Jon defended, “And I wasn’t freaking out.”

“Oh please. You were in my apartment every other night like “Lindsay, what the fuck am I going to put up? Everything I’ve done is shit. What if no one shows u?” and so on,” she said, using a deeper voice as she quoted Jon. You chuckled, but when you looked over at him and caught sight of the look on Jon’s face, you took a drink to stifle your laughter. Jon was looking over at Lindsay, glaring and shaking his head.

“I think being nervous is pretty understandable,” you said finally, breaking the tension that you ere the probably the only one who felt it. “But you really had no reason to be. I thought your work was really great.”

“See?” Lindsay said, “[Y/N] agrees with me.”

“I…” you trailed off, trying to shift the conversation, “So Jon, what’s next?”

“I don’t know,” he stated, looking from Lindsay to you, “I hadn’t really thought about it. Not much is going to change, probably. I’ll still draw Bella and that’s good for me.”

“Next step, if you ask me is to find a woman to draw like a French girl,” Lindsay told him, “You’re wasting an opportunity, Jon. Women dig artists!”

“I mean, look at that girl who was throwing herself at that photographer when we were leaving,” you added. Jon laughed awkwardly, shaking his head. Lindsay nudged your leg with her foot under the table. You glanced over at her and she gave you a look, which made you shake your head. For someone who wasn’t going to set you up again, she seemed to be trying to set you up again.

The three of you sat around for a while, just talking. Lindsay told stories about your office, leaving you to interject in parts and correct her or help explain things to Jon, who seemed genuinely interested in them. The office itself was fairly boring but the people and the hijinks were what made it what it is. Lindsay had plenty of stories to tell about Jon and Bella as well, which Jon corrected in places. After a while, Lindsay left the two of you, saying that she had to be up early for something but told you both to come over to her place tomorrow night. The two of you stayed for a while longer, talking about your dogs, mostly but also about other things. Even though he was a friend of a friend who you had only met tonight, Jon was an easy person for you to talk to. Eventually, though, the two of you had to say your goodbyes. Promising that you’d see him when you went over to Lindsay’s tomorrow night for whatever it was she had planned (and you doubted she had plans besides to continue to push the two of you at each other) you grabbed a cab to take you home.

As soon as you got home, you kicked off your heels and slid into the more comfortable shoes that you left by the door to wear when you took out the dog. You bent dog to rub her stomach as she reached you, sprawled out and promptly rolled over. After showing her the proper amount of affection that she needed after being left alone basically all day, you took her out, let her go to the bathroom, and headed back upstairs. By the time you had gotten undressed and taken your makeup off, your dog was already in your bed, ready to go to bed. You climbed in next to her, scratching behind her ears before covering yourself up in the blankets she wasn’t laying on and promptly falling asleep.

The next morning, you woke up to your dog licking your face. You scrunched your face together, pushing her gently away from her face, rubbing her face lazily.

“I’m up, I’m up. I promise,” you told her groggily, which elicited a happy bark from her. She jumped off your bed and headed out your bedroom door, probably to go grab one of her toys to bring to you. Deciding you should probably get up before she dropped whatever toy it was on your face, you yawned before pushing yourself out of bed and stopping to stretch. Just like every other day, your Saturdays had a routine involved, though it was significantly more lax than your Monday through Friday routine. You woke up when the dog demanded your attention, you’d make breakfast, take a long shower and then take her down to the park.

As you hopped out of the shower, you told your dog to pick out a toy to bring to the park because you were convinced she could understand you. When you came out of your room a little while later, dressed and ready to go, your dog was sitting in front of the front door, a frisbee clasped in her mouth. You chuckled, grabbing her leash and putting it on her. You gave her a reassuring pat on the head, promising her you were leaving. Grabbing your keys and shoving them into sweatshirt pocket, you led your dog out of the apartment, locked the door behind you and headed to the park. It was a relatively short walk, closer to your home than the train station, and it was generally not too crowded for a Saturday in nice weather.

Your dog started tugging at her leash when you got closer to the fenced off area where the dogs could be without their leashes and without their owners fearing that they were going to run away. However, her pulling was more frantic than it usually was and in a direction off to the right of the dog area. She barked, dropping the frisbee from her mouth to bark louder and pull harder.

“What’s gotten into you?” you asked, stopping and bending down to grab the Frisbee. In the moment that you did that, your dog managed to pull herself free of you and sprinted towards the direction she was barking in. You called out her name, taking off after her with her toy clutched in your hand. Luckily, she only went as far as a bench where a man was sitting with a dog whose leash was tied to the bench. Your dog hopped up onto the bench, nudging’s the man’s face with her nose, waiting until he had set aside the book in his hands to lick his face.

You called out her name as you reached the bench, stopping short to avoid running straight into the bench. Just as you opened your mouth to tell her to get down and apologize to the man she was currently licking, you heard him say her name.

“Hey girl, what are you doing here?” he said, scratching behind her ears. “It’s my day off!” When you called your dog again, both she and the man looked at you and you were surprised to see Jon looking up at you. He looked taken aback for a moment and then he beamed.

“Hey there, [Y/N],” he said coolly, “I take it [Dog’s Name] is yours.” You nodded, giving him a confused look.

“Yeah, how’d you know her name?” you asked. Jon chuckled, shrugging.

“Funny story, but uh…I’m your dog walker,” Jon explained, taking her leash and holding it out to you. “Small world, I guess,” he added, chuckling. You smiled, taking the leash from him with your free hand, sliding it onto your wrist to keep a hold on her.

“So, you’re the one who’s been leaving me notes,” you said, giving a gentle tug on your dog’s leash. As soon as she vacated the spot next to Jon on the bench, you took it, smiling a little wider. He smiled sheepishly, nodding and pulling the book back into his lap. You saw that it was a sketchbook and he was midway through drawing a face of an older man.

“Those stupid little things? You don’t mind them?”

“I love them!” you told him, “They’re one of the best parts of coming home.” Jon’s smile got bigger and he looked from you to his sketchbook. He made a couple stray line marks on the page before he said anything, still not looking at you.

“I’m glad they make your day better. I promise I’ll keep leaving them,” he told you. As the dog next to him began to bark, he looked down at her, sighing. “I know, Bella. Just give me a couple more minutes and then we can go play.”

“Is this Bella?” you asked excitedly, bending down to see the dog, who wagged her tail happily, trotting over to you. You immediately began to pet her, cooing down at her. “She’s every bit as cute as she is in your drawings. You do her justice,” you informed, still looking down at the dog who was now lying on her side for you, offering it to you to rub.

“Thanks,” he said, “She’s a little antsy, though. I promised I’d play fetch with her but then I wanted to draw.” You looked up at him, and then back down to Bella and back again.

“I’ll take her,” you told him, jerking your head in the direction of the dog area. “I was already going,” you explained, holding up the Frisbee, “And I doubt [Dog’s Name] would mind having a pal. Draw as much as you want!”   
  
“Are you sure?” Jon asked.

“Yeah, I can totally do it,” you said. “I love dogs and I might or might not hold your dog hostage until you show me a drawing,” you added, winking at him. He chuckled, nodding.

“I can agree to that, I guess. Thanks, [Y/N].”  Jon untied Bella’s leash, holding it out to you. You took it and led her and your dog to the gated area. It was surprisingly less full, and you figured it was maybe because it was early in the morning still so there was a free bench for you to put the leashes on once they were detached from the dogs. You held out the Frisbee, showing both dogs before throwing it towards the other end. You laughed happily as they both took off, watching them try to catch it before it hit the ground but they were both far enough from it that they had no chance. You looked over to where Jon was to see he was watching you. You waved and he waved back but then the dogs were back, Bella with the frisbee in her mouth and your dog nudging your leg. You reached down for it and then threw it again, beaming as the dogs ran. You kept that up for a while before beginning to play tug of war with the dogs for the frisbee. Eventually, you began to start running with them, laughing as you tossed the frisbee just high enough for them to jump around. When you looked around for Jon on his bench, however, you stopped dead when you saw he wasn’t there. You looked around, confused until you found him sitting and sketching on the bench you had left the leashes on. When he looked up and caught your eye, he smiled and offered a wave. You waved back at him and then just went right back to it.

You were getting tired, though and before long, you were plopping yourself down in the spot next to Jon, who had closed his sketchbook and was just watching now.

“Dogs tire you out?” he asked. Panting, you nodded, leaning back on the bench.

“Jesus, yeah,” you told him, trying to take a couple deep breaths. “Wanna…take over?” Jon smirked, patting your leg before standing up.

“[Y/N], leave the dog playing to the professional,” he said, puffing his chest out for a moment before the both of you started to laugh. Before he left, you pointed at his sketchbook.

“Can I make good on our deal?” you asked.

“Yeah, sure,” he said absentmindedly, heading for the dogs. You pulled the sketchbook into your lap, carefully opening it where the pencil was resting to a page near the front. There were a couple sketches of the dogs, Bella and your dog respectively apart and one of them together, both of them holding the same frisbee in their mouths. You carefully flipped to the next page which had a drawing of a woman from behind, mid twirl. When you saw what was on the next page, you gasped quietly. It was you. Your face laughing was on the page and wow, did he make you look so pretty. You stared at it for a moment before tenderly turning the page again. Next was the old man you had seen him drawing when your dog found him, and after that was you again, a couple more of you but they were rougher.

“I couldn’t get your face right, from memory,” a voice overhead said quietly. You looked up to see Jon looking sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I forgot those were in there,” he added, “I’m sorry, I just thought you were…” he started but you shook your head.

“No one’s ever drawn me before,” you told him. “I’m flattered.” He sank down next to you, a look of relief flooding his face.

“Oh, thank god. I was pretty sure you were going to find it creepy,” he sighed. “I couldn’t get your cheeks right,” he told you, tapping at the version on the top left. “And then your eyes were all wrong in the other one.” Curiously, you flipped to the next one and Jon reached out to stop you but you had already flipped the page. On it was a picture similar to the full body one you had seen before. This one too was the from the back, but the woman was wearing a dress that looked like the one you were wearing last night, unzipped to the lower part of her back.

“I…uh. I couldn’t get the dress pattern right so the whole…it being unzipped was a cop out when I got frustrated. I hate leaving something undone so I did the best I could,” he explained in a strained voice, and when you looked up, he was bright red. You blushed slightly yourself, trying to think of what to say. After a long moment, you spoke.

“You make me look a lot prettier than I actually am,” you said finally, flipping back a couple pages to the laughing you. Jon looked at you and his eyebrows met.

“You’re kidding me, right?” he asked. “Fuck, you’re so much prettier. I wish I could get your eyes right. They’re…” he trailed off, seemingly trying to find the right words. Without thinking about it, you leaned over, kissing him. After he got over the initial shock, Jon was kissing you back. Absentmindedly, you brought a hand up to his face, your fingers snaking up to slide into his hair. After a while, the two of you broke apart, smiling at one another. You went in for another, quick kiss before closing his sketchbook with the handing that was holding it.

“You’re sweet, you know that?” you told him, handing him back his sketchbook. He smiled, but before he could say anything, you heard your two dogs barking. Both were standing in front of you expectantly, the frisbee sitting in front of them both.

“I guess they’re not done,” you sighed, reaching down to grab the frisbee and throwing it again. You felt your phone buzz in your sweatshirt pocket and you pulled it out, seeing that Lindsay had texted you about tonight. Instead, there was a message that read:

_For the record, I wasn’t trying to set you and Jon up. You two did that yourselves. I’m just saying, it wouldn’t be awkward to see you tomorrow morning._

You rolled your eyes, showing your phone to Jon. He read it and then shook his head.

“I think we shouldn’t tell her. She’ll be too damn smug about it,” he suggested.

“Agreed.”  You paused for a moment, “You know she’s only friends with you because you’re cute.”

“You say that like she hasn’t already told me. Multiple times.“

The two of you laughed, both standing to grab the toy out of Bella’s mouth as she ran back over, your dog following right behind her. The two of you took turns throwing it and making plans to do things, like go out for dinner and such and how to avoid telling Lindsay because she’d be too smug about it. Besides, it was more fun that way.


End file.
